


Stress Fracture

by Scrabblejangzzzzz



Category: overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:18:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10017491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrabblejangzzzzz/pseuds/Scrabblejangzzzzz
Summary: My friend asked me to write this, and she told me I should post it on a site. As an avid Archive reader, I figured this would be the best place. We were having a conversation that eventually wandered into the state of Amélie's mind, and if she could even break free from Talon's mind control. If I was a writer at Blizzard, this is how I would do it. Keep in mind I am not the lore king of Overwatch, so everything might not be perfect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Casey Portillo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Casey+Portillo).



> I'm always open to any and all feedback, or discussions, or whatever. If you got something for me, a request or whatever, you can ask. Just pm me scrabblejangzzzzz@gmail.com

  1. Chapter 1



Splintered

London is quiet, just before twelve. It would be, at least, if not for the merrymakers just below burgeoning horizon of concrete and stars. They dance, they swing in the low lit street lamps dusky gloom while moths collect around them. Small smoky grey things that are seemingly unannoyed by the loud boisterousness of the rowdy bunch assembled below the low light.

And a rather rowdy bunch they are. Certainly a motley crew, at the least. Several men and women, laughing, drinking, joking with one another. Many different nationalities and creeds mixing together. Some weren’t even human. Some were mostly human.

A gorilla, a cyborg, a robot. Big, tall, skinny or small a cavalcade of almost cartoonishly exaggerated people were together and the formal attire they wore was indicative of the nature of their celebrations. Here they are, throwing congratulations through thick accents at two women, posed as a bride and groom.

Everyone below the skyline was, anyway. There is a lone sole, standing atop a roof above the celebrations. Out of sight, and certainly out of mind, she stood with her left hand to her ear and the right clutching the trigger of her weapon.

A voice crackles in over the static in her ear. Distant and harsh like a wraith, his words are deadly in their simplicity, “Get the job done this time.”

Simple and easy. The merrymakers were half drunk. Well, judging from the singing, they were a lot more than half drunk, save for the two robots that couldn’t. Omnics are not cable of inebriation, though they certainly wished they could be.

The two girls the party was centered around locked hands, as soft and sweet music played. A wedding in a chapel, a reception underneath Big Ben, and a dance before everyone sauntered off to a hole somewhere to nurse a hangover tomorrow.

Watched by a scope in the distance. Though, this time, this night, this sight, caused thoughts to bloom in the widow’s mind. Like flies to a web, they came, and some stuck. None gave her sustenance though, as she’d been trained not to have these thoughts. If she did have them, they were to be ignored. They were more weighted this time, though. They were more pertinent as she scoped in on the girl she knew.

Knew. Before. Before Talon. Was there a before? Another grub in the web. She shook off the question and scoped in again.

They looked so happy together, Lena was taking charge and Emily followed her lead. Her hair flowed like water as she danced and laughed.

Danced and laughed. A flutter of something came through her, a shudder of warm and a smile. It startled her as badly as the voice quipping in over the newfound static. In the mic.

“You’re hesitating.” Chilling and cold, it was as if he could see into her mind and was seeing the cracks as they formed.

“There are other targets here. I could take down any one of them.” She said.

“She knew you before. She’s a direct threat to your mental state.” He was testing her more than anything, and she knew it. She was not happy with his distrust, but it was warranted. Little nagging flies kept making their way into her mind, and this one was massive. It was the biggest one but it consisted of a single pertinent question.

Why? Why was this shot so difficult to make? Why was she shaking every time she tried to squeeze the trigger? Why did this girl have any effect on her? She’d stolen thousands of lives, made enough widows to fill a stadium, what was one more? Especially one so irritating, and disruptive. What would it matter if she killed Lena?

A shudder. The name she invoked forced a chill through her whole body. She needed to take the shot before emotion overran her rationale. She snapped the scope to Lena, zoomed in on her head. She shook though. Her hand squeezed the trigger, but couldn’t pull all the way.

She sat her gun down, and cursed herself under her breath. Doubt was collapsing the coldness in her heart, and emotion was breaking. She was feeling again, for the first time in ages. The emotion was fear, ironically enough. Afraid of feeling again. The memories of before were gone, mostly, and likewise her emotions were too. They were supposed to be, anyway, to prevent a situation like this from occurring. Problem is her connection to this girl, whatever it was, was so powerful that it was making feelings resurface.

She had a decision to make. She was coming alive again, and her loyalties were being strained by curiosity and frustrations. She needed to know why that girl had this effect on her.

She shook, and drew a steady breath. That was wrong. Her loyalties lie with Talon. She needed to be reprogrammed, she needed to be harder, she needed to have these feelings stripped away again. That came after the job, though. She needed to do this, to kill the last little piece of whoever she was before Talon.

Down in the streets below, most of the revellers were blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil going on above them. Out of the two girls in the center of the festivities, one of them had noticed the low red flash from the darkness that had been peeking over the top of a nearby building a few times. She thought little of it, of course. It was just a flash, and she had no reason to fear that light. She just buried herself deeper into her lover's arms and laughed at the sloppy, half drunk steps they both taking.

Back above, things were finally underway. She had finally scoped in on Lena’s head. She had a perfect shot. She drew in a breath, and squeezed the trigger. Just before the hammer came down though, an involuntary reaction hit her. Her hand jerked as the hammer came down. She still shot, and she even hit her mark.

Below, the scene had changed. Merriment had changed to alert. Lena swung around to see where the shot had fired from. She didn’t have time to think about it, when she realized Emily’s grip had slacked in her hand. When she whipped around and saw her bride clutching a hole in her stomach. She went white as she looked down and was hit with the ugly realization the bullet had went through the chronal accelerator and into the girl she’d just married. Emily collapsed, and tears were starting to stream from Lena’s eyes. The formerly merry merrymakers steamed to her side to try to do anything at all for her, but a wound like that wasn’t something that could be patched up. Gutshot, and chronically writhing the girl had no hope, and they knew it.

Back above, something was coursing through her veins, a feeling came from the pit of her stomach and into her eyes. A single tear rolled out of her right eye, and it scared her. Deep, primal fear and a feeling of overarching dread and wrong was inside her now. Her gun clattered to the ground, as she hit it herself and clamoured backwards.

Static crackled in her ear, but she threw her visor and the earpiece as they went through. How? Why did that happen? Why did she feel wrong? Why was remorse flowing through her body as consistently as the tears that were coming out now?

No time to think about it, she needed to leave before they came looking. She rose to her feet, and dashed to the end of the building. She picked up her weapon on the way out and grappled away, into the distance. As she left, she could hear Lena’s screams of anguish and denial in the distance. The cries made her feel an emotion that had long since lied dormant in her heart. She was heartbroken.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Piecing

Rains, wild and fast beat down on the cabin’s roof. Just like the rest of the rains in north Britain, it was cold and grimy. A grey casted world blossomed out from the window of the rustic little cabin in the center of some rolling hills.

Abandoned or just not in use by its rightful owners, who’s to say? It was in use though. A girl with sad, drooping eyes sat against a corner. She was in contrast with the surrounding warm wood browns with a bright purple outfit that opened in the middle. It was scuffed, and the armor she typically wore with it was scattered around the cabin. She had no use for it, in her current state.

She was half hoping that at any moment a talon operative would burst in through that door and finish her. It would be easier than dealing with the inner turmoil that she’d been experiencing.

After she took that shot, and missed, she ran. She needed to find a place that would be able to offer some form of solace, and for some reason, she knew exactly the place to go.

She was using this place to gather the shattered pieces of her memories before Talon. She wanted to piece together what was before, but all she could remember was a man, and Lena.

Lena… what had she done. She ruined that girl’s life. Why did she jerk like that? Nothing made sense. She pressed her palm to her head, and felt the beginning of a vein pulse across her head. She was caught somewhere between anger and disgust at herself.

She had spent two days in this corner. Two whole days, just thinking. No breaks, no food, no water, no sleep. Just… sitting there. Thinking to herself. Wondering why, and slowly seeping emotion back into her heart. Color was splashing back into her soul, and as of right now it was all dark. Dark reds of anger, blacks of hatred, greens of envy, pales of self pity, and deep blues of depression.

Self pity was the ugliest thing that she felt, because she didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve pity from anyone. For the war crimes she committed she deserved an execution, and she knew it. She’d taken love and life from so many people who probably didn’t deserve it.

She felt hate at the organization that put her through this. She felt disgust at herself for going through with it. She felt ultimately lost, though. Not exactly an emotion, but certainly what she was. Lost. Unable to figure out a course of action.

She held her hand over her mouth and peered out the window to her left. Sun had broken slightly through the clouds and the rains were petering out. Just out the window was a tree, bathing in the newfound sunlight. She glanced at it for a moment, and before she looked away, a bald patch on the tree caught her eye. Something was scrawled on that tree, but she couldn’t make out what it was. The sight of it made her heart race, though.

She started to sweat, to choke. Her muscles tensed. She needed to see what was there. What was causing such a response in her?

She got up, slowly, her body would scarcely allow for movement at that point. Two days with your knees to your chest will do that to you, even with eight pounds of adrenaline running through your body. She clacked out, and glanced at the gun she’d left at a nearby table. It sickened her to look at it. She thought about simply burying it in the yard and being done with it, but everything was fuzzy. She needed all her faculties to make the next step, regardless of what it was.

She came out the door, and shielded her eyes from the low light. It wasn’t great, this WAS northern England after all, but it was blinding. She felt the sun against her skin, and it was practically burning. It was searing her dark flesh, but she had to know what was on that tree.

She stumbled to the tree. The slight incline it was on gave her half sleeping legs a slight amount of trouble, but she powered through. Some primal instinct was forcing her to this patch.

She came face to face with it. It wasn’t as spectacular as she’d hoped it would be, oddly. It was just what it looked like from a distance, a bald patch on this little tree. It wasn’t too special. It had a name carved into it though.

She ran her hand over it, and it caught. There was a name in this little exposed patch. She looked at it. It had been carved in without much finesse, roughly written, but visible. It said Gérard…

Gérard. Her eyes widened.

“Oh God,” it escaped her lips that began to quiver. She hit the ground, and clawed away as the memories began flooding back. She scurried back to get away from the horror of what she’d done.

She couldn’t though, and tears and sobs began pouring out of her like a raging river. Her memories were scarred, shattered, and splintered, but some of them were coming back. She remembered Gérard, and she remembered the love they shared. She remembered being in Overwatch, and betraying her family. Her real family. Her mind had been poisoned by those monsters, and she was too weak to fight it. Her everything had been broken. Ripped apart in part by her own hand.

She knew what she needed to do. She slammed the door to the cabin open, ripping off the last pieces of Talon that adorned her body. She remembered the bedroom, and the friend that she’d shared a trip here with in spite of what she was. She found a closet there, with old but functional clothing. There were two sides, for a man and a woman, and a suitcase stuck at the bottom. She got dressed, in a rush, but there was one thing she noticed, next to her side, there were four sets of significantly smaller clothes than hers or Gérard’s.

“I’m sorry Lena. You’ll have closure on this, I’ll make sure of it.” She said solemnly. She packed the suitcase neatly, and went to leave. She knew where she needed to go, and it was a long walk. One that would be made even harder by the extra burden she carried in her suitcase.

She packed the most disgusting symbol of her past life. Her weapon.


	3. Redemption

Chapter 3  
Redemption

 

Her skin had begun to return to a human color. The memories were still returning from the mental stress fracture she’d suffered. Her parents, pieces of her childhood, some of the men and women she’d served with.

Gérard, and Lena. Her memories of both of them were somewhat strained, but she knew who and what they were to her. Lena’s warm smile and cheerful attitude, one that she’d likely stolen. 

She’d rode from bus stop to bus stop across England to get back to King’s row. She’d heard whispers on every ride around about the poor girl who’d been gunned down at her own wedding. The funeral was held earlier that day. The service was attended by a motley cast of characters and people who knew her. Most of them had already left.

Save one, that is. She was preparing to leave this place. Boxes lay strewn around her apartment, almost as disheveled and unorganized as her own hair. All she had left was to pick a place. She had no clue where she was going to go, just anywhere but here. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. She still had photographs to do something with, but she didn’t have the heart to do anything with them. 

She took a seat again, wondering. What was she going to do? She was lost. Utterly lost. Without Emily she was a husk of a person. Healing from this would take years, and it was going to leave an ugly scar. Tears were starting again. She needed a break, maybe a walk to clear her head. One last trip around King’s Row.

She was headed to the door, when it opened. No knock, no nothing. It swung slowly, and the light homey colors gave way to a tall black trench coat, with black gloves. It gave way to the face of a murderer. A vile temptress.

She stumbled, turning to try to find a weapon. She must’ve come to finish what she’d started, Jack was right. It wasn’t Emily she was after the first time, it was her. She had no way to defend herself, everything was in boxes and her bomb wasn’t primed. She was going to die.

So she thought, anyway. This great temptress just sort of looked at her, coldly, seemingly unfeelingly, and then sashayed past her. She went straight to the photographs on the wall behind her. Lena scurried away, and fell up against another wall just to the left of where she was.

“I… don’t remember her.” The voice came out in a heavy french tangle. It hadn’t been used too much lately, and all the crying had done it little good, so it was a little raspy.

Lena just looked at her, she had no clue what was going on. She thought about making a break for it, but surely, there was some mine or devious trap just outside the door. She was ensnared in the widow’s web and all she could do was wait for the inevitable.

“Plus ça change…” she muttered under her breath as she placed the photo back to where it was supposed to be. She casted a glance at the trembling girl on the ground, then to the suitcase she had on the ground. 

She tossed it to Lena, saying, “Open it.”

The girl did as she was instructed. She opened the suitcase with trembling hands, and clothes spilled out. Behind them was a weapon. Her pulse was pounding, not just out of fear, but out of confusion. 

She paused for a moment, before something fell out of her mouth. All she could muster was, “What?”

Amélie drew a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh before she spoke, saying, “Do you not understand what I offer to you, Lena?” 

She walked over to where Lena was curled up, and dropped to her knees. She took off her gloves, then lightly grabbed one of Lena’s hands and drew it slowly to the stock of the gun. She stared directly into Lena’s eyes the entire time. She never blinked, she never wavered. She took the gun just under the trigger and drew it towards them. She placed the butt of the gun between the two of them, and guided Lena’s other hand to the trigger.

She pressed the safety in, and then hit a button to extend the scope and the barrel. It came two inches from the center of her head. Lena was still baffled, this was a trap, it had to be. This could never happen, this just… couldn’t be real. She couldn’t trust what Amélie had become. 

Could she?

As if to read her mind Amélie said, “This is real, Lena. I stole from you, and so many others.” She backed away for a second, and reached into the coat. She pulled out a knife, and cut her left hand with it. “You see? I’m no figment.” She put the knife at her side. “I want you to have justice for what I’ve done.”

Coldly, almost cruelly, she said, “Do it, Lena.” She practically kissed the barrel of the gun, and stared right into Lena’s eyes with those haunting, hunting eyes of hers. She still never broke eye contact. She stared down not Lena, but the reaper himself. 

And he laughed.

“Amélie? Is that… is it really you?” Lena said, her voice quivering as much as she was. 

“Not as you knew me, either time. I’m a shell, Lena. I remember little, just bits and pieces of who I was…” her words carried a lot of reflection.

“They don’t control you anymore?” Tears were welling at the seams of her eyes.

“No. I’m no marionette anymore.” Sobbing, howling, practically wailing, Lena threw the gun across the room and dove into Amélie’s chest, wrapping her arms around her back and releasing all her energy into tears.

In between sobs and hics, she looked up at Amélie, and managed to choke out some words, “I wanted to hate you so bad! Three days ago I’d have sawn off both my legs if it meant putting you down like an animal!!!” She grinded her teeth audibly. She looked up with a confused ferocity that was baffling to Amélie, as she wiped some tears from the corners of her eyes and continued raving, “You had the nerve to show up at my doorstep, AND OFFER ME THE CHANCE, but not as that hateful, cynical, emotionless bitch you were, or even as my friend, but as a wounded animal…” She struck Amélie with two fists and kept going, “I wanted to die… I wanted to curl up and just go to sleep forever so I could see Emily again, but I knew that wouldn’t be right because the world needs heroes right now, and that’s me, and I’m not going to abandon people who need me!” She took a breath, gave a few more hics, and then drew one solid long breath.

“You’re not entirely anything. You’re just… broken.” She swelled with another breath, and then let it go again. Her breathing had steadied, and her sobbing was controlled even though tears streamed from eyes still.

In a hushed tone, she continued, “I can’t hate you. You’re not entirely Amélie, but you aren’t that monster that swallowed my friend. I can’t hate you… I want to, but it wouldn’t be right.” Lena hugged Amélie tight, on as she said it.

“I missed you.” Those last words were spoken with a soft sincerity that touched Amélie deep in her heart. Everything that happened, all those words stirred her soul, but…

She had no idea what to do. A million emotions rushed into her heart and through her veins. A billion colors coursed through her soul, and she had no idea what to do. All she could do was hug Lena back. 

She was nearly stunned to death by the fact that Lena hadn't killed her. She had no idea what was going to happen next, or even what she should do. She was totally, and utterly, lost.


End file.
